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It’s The Little Things That Count

February 16, 2020

Once again, I am reminded that the little things matter: as I was seated upon the porcelain throne last night, I was literally thanking God for whoever invented Milk of Magnesia. For some reason, as I’ve aged I have developed a propensity for the occasional bout of, shall we say, irregularity; and let me tell you, it can be excruciating. I get irritable and shaky, and the pressure just builds up and up until I feel like I’m about to give birth. Then out of desperation I bolt down 60 ml of MOM, and within hours I have complete relief. Just like that. So simple, and yet I never even think about it between episodes.

It really IS the little things that make life bearable, even pleasurable. Almost every night when I settle down under my soft blankets, I pray for the homeless and remember how privileged I am to be safe and warm. I look at the vase of roses and carnations Ben and Clint bought me for Valentine’s Day and think how lucky I am to have these guys. I’ll sneeze a couple of times and take a moment to appreciate the fact that I haven’t been sick in well over two years, when I used to get bronchitis at least once every winter. And even in the mornings when I wake up depressed, I’m grateful because I know it will go away once I start my day.

This is something I work on constantly. If you look at my lifestyle and compare it with the one I had before it all came crashing down in 2014, it’s kind of pathetic—no husband, no job, no car, can’t afford my own place. I’m dependent on others for food, utilities, transportation, and companionship. As used to it as I am now, however, I still wish I had the ability to conquer, once and for all, the monster that ate my life and spit it out just for the hell of it…namely, bipolar 1 disorder.

But then, I have learned how to tame it. Medication has made a world of difference, of course, and so has the work I’ve been doing on myself. I’m grown-up enough now to know what I DON’T know, and I accept the fact that I will spend the rest of my days reaching for more knowledge and more wisdom. I’ve come to value those things more than almost anything else, maybe because they are so elusive and it’s so easy to miss opportunities to expand them. And you know, I wonder if I would have gotten this far if bipolar hadn’t intervened. It’s been only eight years, but I feel like I’ve learned more about life since I was diagnosed than I did in all the 53 years before it.

And yeah, I’m thankful for that too.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Margie permalink
    February 24, 2020 1:59 pm

    Interesting article. I am 62. Had 2 manic episodes after trauma occurred in 2017, Before that I was totally ‘normal’. Was a successful professional who won awards for my work. I have hurt people I love during mania and have a hard time forgiving myself, On lots of medication, do EMDR therapy and regular therapy. Most days I cannot believe that this is my life. Used to be into fitness but now have no motivation to do anything,..,just trying to survive. Any tips on self forgiveness?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. March 5, 2020 10:49 pm

    hey friend how’s your bowels? lol… 🙂 Mine are very very good, too good. Ugh.lol!

    You know, someday, someone is going to do a search on us, when we get famous, and they’ll find constipation and diarrhea.

    Liked by 1 person

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